


communication skills

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Clueless!Kageyama, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, OOC maybe idk, Romance, Super Fluffity Fluff, Sweet, Tenderness, a tiny bit of kissing only, does not follow story line, helpful oikawa, only one year age difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: The summer after Oikawa graduates from Aoba Johsai, he offers to help Kageyama improve his serve.  Clueless Kageyama can't read anything else into it.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 19
Kudos: 268





	communication skills

**Author's Note:**

> translated into Mandarin!!! See link in comments.

“Yoo-hoo, Tobio-Chan!”

Kageyama swings around at the words, but when he sees who it is, he turns back. Heat rises in his face- he feels like it’s glowing, a neon red sign, broadcasting his emotions to the world. Why is Oikawa here, anyway? He doesn’t live near here, nor would he be playing volleyball close by. A strange thought flashes through Kageyama’s mind, that Oikawa is here for the express purpose of seeing _him_. He immediately dismisses it. Even Oikawa wouldn’t come all the way out here for the sole purpose of torturing Kageyama, would he? Kageyama turns away, picks up his pace. He’s not going to wait here like a sitting duck for Oikawa to come and humiliate him. He is nearly jogging by the time Oikawa catches up with him.

“Don’t run away from your senpai, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says, a little breathlessly. “It’s rude.”

“You’re not my senpai,” Kageyama grunts, not changing his pace.

“Once a senpai, always a senpai,” Oikawa says in a singsong voice. “Now be polite and stop walking so fast.”

Immediately, Kageyama finds himself slowing to a walk. He curses to himself. He has no need to obey Oikawa anymore! But old habits die hard, apparently.

“What do you want?” he says, hoping the continued rudeness will drive Oikawa away.

“Manners, Tobio-chan!”

Kageyama groans. In addition to his not wanting to spend any time in Oikawa’s presence, he has so much homework to do today. He is enrolled in the summer course, and he needs to do well, or he won’t be allowed back on the volleyball team come the fall semester – his final year at Karasuno.

“How can I help you, Oikawa-san?” he spits out between gritted teeth.

“That’s better,” says Oikawa smugly, “if a bit frosty. You need to work on your communication skills, Tobio-chan, if you’re going to make progress in this world. You won’t always have the protection of your high school teammates.”

“How can I help you, Oikawa-san?” he repeats, hoping to put an end to this fruitless conversation as quickly as possible.

“Well,” says Oikawa slowly. “I was thinking. Since you and I won’t be competing against each other any time soon, I wanted to offer you my services.”

This is so far from anything Kageyama could have expected that he stops in his tracks. “What?”

“I’m willing to help you improve your volleyball,” Oikawa says, slowly and clearly, as if talking to a small child.

Kageyama stares at him blankly. Oikawa sighs, eyes shooting upward, as though asking for patience.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to work on your serve,” he adds pointedly. “With me. After all, I _am_ the best.”

“You’re going to teach me your serve?!!!” Kageyama says with awe, as though Oikawa is offering him the holy grail, or the secret of immortality.

“I’m going to help you improve your own serve,” Oikawa corrects him.

“When? Now?” says Kageyama, practically drooling with eagerness.

“Disgusting,” murmurs Oikawa, but there is a glint in his eye.

Oikawa leads him to a dilapidated outdoor blacktop that Kageyama didn’t even know existed. It’s not perfect, especially without a net, but there is plenty of space and no one else around. Once there, he is all business. Gone is the flighty, temperamental tease. He demonstrates his power serve (practically a spike) multiple times. Each time, the thwack of the ball on the ground sends shivers up Kageyama’s spine. He can’t help marveling at the power and precision of it. But now is not the time for worshipping at the altar of Oikawa. Now is the time for _learning_. Who knows how long he has? Who knows when Oikawa will change his mind?

Oikawa is a surprisingly patient teacher. He spots where Kageyama is moving inefficiently and offers useful tips on how to correct his form. On the twentieth try, Kageyama nails it. He gives a loud whoop and wishes Hinata were there to celebrate with him.

Oikawa merely says “Hmmph. Not bad.” But he has that same glint in his eye, the one Kageyama saw earlier. Kageyama thinks to himself, now that he is paying attention, that it looks an awful lot like a smile. A pleased smile. Not the kind of smile Oikawa gives to the swarms of girls always surrounding him at matches. An internal smile, only visible in his eyes.

Another twenty tries, and Kageyama nails it again. And, yes! There it is, that flashing glint. Kageyama decides that it _is_ a smile. A real one. It’s strange, to think that there is another side to Oikawa, apart from the outrageously flirty, man-child; apart, even from the ruthless, dominating competitor. It’s foreign to Kageyama, this pleased, generous Oikawa. But Kageyama thinks that he likes it. Especially because it’s improving his volleyball.

Another half hour, and Kageyama manages to nail the serve one more time. It’s not as powerful as Oikawa’s – he’s not sure he’ll ever attain that level of force – but it’s definitely moving in the right direction.

“Thank you, Oikawa-san,” he says, bowing low. He is relieved that Oikawa doesn’t ask for the moment to be preserved on film this time (not that there’s anyone around to take a picture).

They leave together in companionable silence. Kageyama is too taken with his new serve to question why Oikawa is walking with him towards his house, rather than in the direction of the train station.

Unit they arrive, when Kageyama stands awkwardly at the gate, shuffling his feet. He’s not sure what to do next. 

Oikawa pouts. “You’re not going to invite me in, Tobio-chan, after I’ve sacrificed my entire afternoon to help you?”

Kageyama, once again, stares at him blankly. Oikawa wants to come inside his house? But _why_? The volleyball is done. There’s nothing remotely interesting in his house. But all he does is open the gate and lead the way in.

  
His mother is already home, and he mutters out introductions once they are inside.

“Kageyama-san,” Oikawa says, bowing politely to his mother. “Thank you for welcoming me into your lovely home.”

“Ah, Oikawa Tooru. We finally meet. Tobio has said so much about you.”

“Has he, indeed?” Oikawa asks, with a sideways glance at Kageyama. He looks like nothing so much as the cat that got the cream. Kageyama would not have been surprised to see him licking his lips. They talk idly for a few minutes, then Oikawa excuses himself, citing his need to get home before dinner.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Oikawa. Come visit us again.” Kageyama realizes his mother must really like Oikawa. She doesn’t say that to everyone – in fact, she hardly says it to anyone.

“The pleasure is mine,” says Oikawa, with another low bow. “And I would be most happy to visit again.” Kageyama has another flash of insight. Oikawa is… performing. It’s not as overt as his usual song-and-dance. But it’s still there, a subtle seduction of Kageyama’s mother. An image flashes into his mind, of Oikawa surrounded by girls, flirting outrageously, and Iwaizumi-san clocking him on the back of the head, then dragging him in to a match. He understands better, now, why Iwaizumi is so annoyed with Oikawa’s performances, because Iwaizumi must know, far better than Kageyama does, the whole other _real_ Oikawa, hidden inside.

They end up meeting again; once, twice, a handful of times. Oikawa will show up out of the blue and ask Kageyama if he wants to practice his serve. Kageyama always jumps at the chance because he knows he’s getting better. He’s gaining both control and power.

They start practicing other things too, tossing to each other, working on their spikes. Now that they are not competing against each other, Kageyama can appreciate Oikawa’s fluid, almost telepathic tosses all the more. He thinks that Oikawa, too, is enjoying receiving his tosses.

It is after one of their sessions – right after, in fact, Oikawa spikes the ball with a mind-blowing ferocity – that Kageyama sees it again: that hidden, glinting smile. He’s always on the lookout for it now, especially at times he thinks Oikawa will be pleased. It’s like a neverending treasure hunt, because he’s come to see those eye-smiles as treasures. He does see it this time – there, that was it – but today there’s something else, too. Something Kageyama hasn’t seen before. He notices Oikawa’s fingers in the hem of his shirt, playing with it, idle movements that have no purpose.

Oikawa is nervous! Kageyama doesn’t understand. They’re not playing for real here. There are no stakes. They’re not even tossing for points. Why would Oikawa be nervous?

Oikawa turns his face to the side, so he’s not looking directly at Kageyama, and says, offhandedly, “Are you hungry? We could go get something to eat.”

“But it’s almost dinner time,” Kageyama answers him, confused.

“I know,” says Oikawa.

“My mother is already cooking.”

“Oh. Right,” says Oikawa, and there is disappointment in his voice. Again, Kageyama doesn’t understand (there’s _so much_ about Oikawa that baffles him). Why would Oikawa be disappointed about Kageyama’s mother cooking dinner?

Later that evening, as he puts together the last of the tortuous English sentences that need to be completed, he wonders, again, where the tinge of disappointment came from. Maybe… maybe Oikawa wanted to eat dinner at their house? Maybe his mother is a poor cook? He did seem to like Kageyama’s mother quite a bit. And Oikawa has been so kind and helpful to him. He should try to repay him, if he can.

He asks his mother the next morning if he can invite Oikawa over for dinner.

“Because I think he’s hungry,” he adds, so she understands.

She gives him an odd look, but only says, “Of course. Anytime. I always make too much for the two of us, you know that.”

Oikawa comes to dinner the next week.

Kageyama knows that he is not proficient in “communication skills.” It’s never really bothered him before. Sometimes it gets in the way of volleyball, and that’s a problem, but otherwise he doesn’t care. Any verbal awkwardness he has off the court is not a big concern to him.

So it is for perhaps the first time in his life that he realizes the true value of the art of conversation. Particularly for the purposes of garnering information. Almost the entire dinner is taken up by the exchange between his mother and Oikawa. Kageyama can only sit on the sidelines, his eyes wide, watching the words bounce back and forth.

He learns so much! That Oikawa is going to university not too far away, only a little more than an hour by train (Kageyama hadn’t even asked him about his plans after graduating). That the school has an excellent volleyball team, with room to grow, which is why they offered Oikawa such a good scholarship. That Oikawa’s voice holds almost the same level of interest when he talks about the vastness of space, other galaxies, and the possibility of extraterrestrial life, as it does when he talks about volleyball.

Kageyama learns surprising things about his mother as well – that she was one of the first women to play soccer at her high school, and the kinds of prejudice she encountered playing; that she loves to go dancing; and that she trained for an entirely new career after Kageyama’s father died all those years ago.

“You must be proud, Kageyama-san, to have such an accomplished son.”

“I am,” she says, looking at Kageyama with an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. “It’s too bad my work schedule doesn’t allow me to attend many matches.”

Kageyama doesn’t know what to say. He stares down at his plate, his throat thick, feeling tired and overwhelmed.

Finally, they are done eating, and Kageyama breathes a sigh of relief. It’s been a lot to take in, and he’s glad it’s over.

But then, to Kageyama’s mortification, his mother pulls out a photo album stuffed with his baby pictures.

“Mom!” he cries out, appalled.

“Ooooh, I want to see,” Oikawa flutters. To Kageyama’s disgust, they spend a good twenty minutes poring over the images, completely ignoring Kageyama’s baleful stares.

“He was such a darling baby,” says his mother, and Kageyama is embarrassed to see that her eyes are slightly misty

“Mmmm,” nods Oikawa in agreement.

Oikawa’s favorite photograph is one of Kageyama at about 2 years old. He is clutching a large beach ball fiercely to his chest. His face is bright red and thunderous.

“I remember that day so clearly,” says his mother, laughing. “He wouldn’t give his cousin’s ball back. Poor Tetsuo had to go home without it.”

“He hasn’t changed much, has he?” Oikawa murmurs.

They both turn to look speculatively at Kageyama.

Kageyama can feel himself redden under the weight of their combined gazes.

“No,” his mother agrees. “He really hasn’t. Not in the ways that matter.”

“He’s a lovely young man,” says his mother, once Oikawa has finally, blessedly, left. He knows that she means more than Oikawa’s appearance.

Kageyama wonders how it is possible that the word “lovely” is being used to describe Oikawa’s personality. But he has to admit that Oikawa has been a pleasant, entertaining, guest; he is also teaching Oikawa incredible things. So maybe he _is_ lovely?

Volleyball club doesn’t officially meet over the summer, but Ennoshita has obtained permission for them to hold informal practices several days a week, as long as they leave the gymnasium in pristine condition.

“That serve, Kageyama-kun!” Hinata whoops, jumping high with excitement. “It went whoosh! And _bam_! Like thunder!” Kageyama grins, baring his teeth. It’s the first time he’s nailed it on an actual court.

“Where did you learn that?” Hinata asks, all eager enthusiasm.

Strangely, Kageyama finds himself not wanting to talk about Oikawa.

“I’ve been… practicing.” After all, it’s true. He has. Hinata doesn’t need to know that it’s been with Oikawa.

“You’re going to take the Great King’s place, with a serve like that!”

“No, I won’t,” he mumbles. Hinata’s words strike something in him. Kageyama wants to get better, to keep playing, to win. He has always wanted that, ever since he started playing volleyball; ever since he first saw a match on television. He knows that Oikawa shares that same fierce, unyielding desire. They are no longer competing in the same circle. Oikawa has left; he will be playing in a university league. He will be competing for a spot on the national team before Oikawa does. But Oikawa has kept himself in Kageyama’s circle, in Kageyama’s life. Why? 

For the life of him, Kageyama can’t come up with an answer to this question.

Kageyama’s serve is getting better and better. He still lacks Oikawa’s power, but his level of control has improved dramatically. He can direct the ball while retaining velocity, at least most of the time.

One evening, as they are leaving their makeshift outdoor court, both of them tired and satisfied, Oikawa says, in an annoyed tone of voice, “Will you come to dinner with me, Tobio-chan?”

“What?” asks Kageyama, still thinking about the serve, and how it worked better when he altered his jump ever so slightly.

“Will you come to dinner with me?” repeats Oikawa, sounding even more annoyed.

“You want to come over for dinner again? I’ll let my mother know. There should be plenty tonight.”

“No!” says Oikawa, now sounding angry. His hand shoots out and grabs the arm moving towards Kageyma’s phone.

Kageyama looks up at him in surprise. They are standing very close together, and he is looking right into Oikawa’s deep, brown eyes. Oikawa’s face is full of something, but Kageyama has never been good at some types of communication, and he can’t read what’s there.

“Never mind,” snaps Oikawa, dropping Kageyama's arm. 

Kageyama is confused. Why is Oikawa-san angry? It’s so different from how things have been, this summer.

“Why are you angry, Oikawa-san? Are you hungry? Is your mother that bad a cook?

“My _mother_? What!?“ splutters Oikawa. He turns away, muttering to himself. Kageyama thinks he catches the words, but did Oikawa truly say, “Save me from oblivious idiots”? No, it must have been something else. Before he can ask, Oikawa has stomped off. Kageyama quickly loses himself in thoughts about the serve again.

When Kageyama goes to bed that night, the scene comes back to him. What should he do? Oikawa did seem upset, and he has been so very kind and helpful to Kageyama. If he truly _is_ hungry all the time… 

By the time he wakes up, a plan has formed in his mind.

Kageyama holds the loaf out, wrapped in silver paper and tied with a slender gold ribbon. He doesn’t understand why he’s blushing or why he feels nervous.

“Is that for me, Tobio-chan? What is it? Is it- is it _milk bread_?” When he looks over at Kageyama he has a whole new look in his eyes. Not the eye-smile, but something else. Something tender, soft and… vulnerable.

“I know it’s your favorite,” mumbles Kageyama.

Oikawa gives him a puzzled look.

“It was in the paper. _Volleyball Weekly_.”

“You read about me in _Volleyball Weekly_? You remembered my favorite food?”

Kageyama is bright red now. He feels foolish and awkward. Oikawa will start making fun of him any moment, just like he always used to. He’ll say something stupid about Kageyama and his childish habits, something about how great he, Oikawa, is. He starts to withdraw his hand, the milk bread with it, but Oikawa quickly snatches it away.

“Thank you,” Oikawa says, his voice slightly husky. “Kageyama.” He tucks it carefully into his bag, on top of everything else so it won’t get squashed.

There is a silence. Kageyama is just about to say goodnight (he feels a strong urge to flee), when Oikawa blurts out, his voice unusually rough, “Will you go to dinner? With me? On Friday?”

“But we’re practicing together on Saturday,” says Kageyama, perplexed.

“Kageyama Tobio,” Oikawa says, now sounding angry. Kageyama doesn't know why. Didn’t Oikawa like the milk bread? He said _thank you_ with sincerity.

“Yes?” Kageyama asks. He doesn’t understand any of this: why Oikawa keeps harping on dinner, why Oikawa looks both exasperated and like he’s laughing, why Kageyama himself feels nervous and why his heart seems to be racing.

“Will you go out on a date with me, Kageyama Tobio?” It’s not the soft, fluting voice he uses for his hordes of admirers. Nor is it the coldly calculating voice he uses on the volleyball court. It’s a rough, scratchy, irritated voice, as though Oikawa-san is annoyed with himself that he is asking something so ridiculous.

Kageyama blinks. Every time he thinks he understands Oikawa even just a little bit, Oikawa pulls the rug out from under his feet.

“Well?” Oikawa asks, arms crossed, his foot tapping impatiently.

It isn’t fair, Kageyama thinks, for Oikawa to throw this out at him and then expect him to answer immediately.

But Kageyama has quick reflexes which he has trained relentlessly to be even quicker. A sudden, startling wave of clarity washes over him, and all the pieces fall into place with a thud: Oikawa tracking him down; Oikawa spending so much time with him; Oikawa working to win over Kageyama’s mother; Oikawa offering dinner – not once, not twice, but three times; and Oikawa’s eye-smile, the one Kageyama has been seeing more and more frequently as the weeks have passed.

And with that clarity comes, strong and sure, an answer.

“Yes,” he says. Saying the word emphasizes the truth of it. He repeats it, louder. “Yes.”

“You will?” asks Oikawa, for once looking shocked himself. But Oikawa, also, has lightning-quick reflexes, and he adds, hastily, “I’ll pick you up at your house. At 7.”

Oikawa leans forward and, what’s he going to do? what’s happening? the ground is shifting beneath Kageyama’s feet.

Oikawa leans even further in, too close, and then – then! - brushes his lips lightly against Kageyama’s. Kageyama jolts backward. Oikawa takes a step forward and does it again. By this time, however, Kageyama has regained enough of his footing so that when Oikawa’s lips touch his, he is able to react, mimicking Oikawa’s movements. Oikawa’s lips are soft, and his breath is warm.

"Such a quick learner, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa murmurs. His hand comes up and he runs it gently through Kageyama’s hair, a finger trailing along Kageyama’s cheek as it falls. This close, Kageyama catches a faint scent of apples.

Kageyama is still trying to recover his balance, but he knows one thing for sure: he liked them, those kisses from Oikawa. And he has always been someone who reaches for what he wants. He lurches forward to plant a kiss on Oikawa’s mouth. It lands awkwardly, too far to the right. 

He can feel Oikawa’s grin and pulls back, blushing furiously. He is embarrassed now. But when he glances up, he sees that the smile that is usually merely a glint in Oikawa’s eye is spreading. Soon he has an honest-to goodness, real, beaming smile plastered across his entire face. Kageyama’s heart twists at the sight.

“See you Friday,” Oikawa whispers. One more firm kiss, expertly placed, and he’s walking jauntily down the street, away from Kageyama.

Kageyama stares after him, dazed, a finger tracing his own lips.

Oikawa turns around and walks backwards for a few steps. His smile only widens as he sees Kageyama frozen in place. “And don’t wear your volleyball uniform!” he calls out. He gives a merry wave before spinning back around and is soon lost from sight.

**Author's Note:**

> i couldn't come up with a good title. will probably change it when i think of something better.
> 
> also, i wasn't sure if the rating should be G or Teen and Up; chose teen and up to be on the safe side
> 
> also, i'm wobbly on the names/honorifics - I hope i got them right
> 
> thanks for reading ;-)


End file.
